


right foot red

by IrisParry



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Multi, crack with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 12:19:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8013484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrisParry/pseuds/IrisParry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(509): as much as I enjoyed playing drunk half-naked Twister and talking about my daddy issues last time, I'll have to pass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	right foot red

**Author's Note:**

> [(509): as much as I enjoyed playing drunk half-naked Twister and talking about my daddy issues last time, I'll have to pass.](http://irisparry.tumblr.com/post/148305998714/509-as-much-as-i-enjoyed-playing-drunk-half)
> 
> Yeah, I wrote another ridiculous thing based on one of my own posts. This is my life and these are my choices. I also did the [moodboard meme](http://irisparry.tumblr.com/post/151359938264/i-was-tagged-by-nightsofllyn-and-bygoneboy-for) for it.

"Right foot red."

"I mean, it's not as if I _wanted_ him to say anything, you know?"

Kylo pivoted on his left foot, swung his right around behind him.

“I'm just saying, generally it's an occasion people think is significant, marking it is a normal thing that normal people do."

"Left hand yellow."

Hux bent forward to plant his hand. "He's not exactly busy these days. He's clearly got plenty of time to write those blasted letters on the holonet about standards at the Academies.” In his new position he spoke directly into Kylo's ear, and Kylo could hear all the soft, blurring edges to his words, the burn of the brandy in them.

"Left hand green."

"It's not a particular concern of mine," Hux continued, "It's just an example, an example of how the man operates, do you - "

Kylo could have shifted forward to make green. Instead he got his feet turned around into position and arched, reaching for the furthest corner, stretching across the mat in a backbend.

Hux's breath was hot on Kylo's bare chest, unsteady. Kylo let his head drop, and it felt good, the stretch, the rush of blood to his head. Hux’s attention, crawling over him all bright and tingling.

"Right hand green."

"You're fixing these," Hux protested. Hux was devious, surprisingly flexible, and more than willing to grind his little ass against Kylo to distract him, but he'd still managed to lose five rounds to Kylo's two and was not taking it with much grace.

Kylo couldn't see Phasma where she lay, next to the spinner, but he could picture her elegantly arched eyebrow. There was a low _chink_ , the bottle against her teeth, barely audible but ringing through the Force like a bell. Kylo shook his head as if that would clear it, and the ends of his hair swished on the mat. Being drunk was like … being stretched thin, grounded deep in his body but drifting out of it at the same time. Stretched thin, like to sag and snap in the middle.

"Right hand green," Phasma repeated coolly. "And be quick about it."

"Kriffing hell."

"Over or under, Armitage," she said with another _chink_.

Kylo pressed down into his hands and feet, lifting his chest, arching his body up closer to Hux. Four points of contact with the mat. Hux’s quivering muscles. Phasma’s eyes glittering over them both.

Hux cursed again, and his hair brushed Kylo's back as he ducked beneath him. "I hope you can hold that, Ren.”

Kylo smiled, and it felt strange, upside-down. "I work out." Snaked down low to the mat, Hux began making fuzzy mental attempts at strategy, made spots dance in front of Kylo’s eyes, red, blue, yellow, green.

"Right hand green."

"Oh, come on, now you're just - "

"I don't know why you're so upset about your dad forgetting your birthday," Phasma interrupted, and it sounded casual, cold, but Kylo could feel the warm core of it. "You forbid anyone else from celebrating it."

Hux spluttered in outrage again. "I'm not _upset_!"

He was upset. Hovering close Kylo on the mat all night, Hux kept thinking about putting out his tongue to his skin, imagining the taste and the heat and how Kylo would gasp - and he would. He was barely holding it back, with Hux’s muddled desires crashing into him in heavy waves. But hurt still hung like a moon in Hux’s mind, set all his tides. Kylo could feel the pull of it, familiar and easier to trust than any comfort he took from his friends.

"If you’re not upset, why do you keep bringing it up? Right foot blue."

"I'm merely trying to - " Hux knocked into the back of Kylo's leg, shifting his own around to try an angle of approach, " - to illustrate - "

"Fault!" Phasma called, clapping her hands.

"It was not! I was still deciding which spot to go to!"

"Your elbow dropped. Don't do this again, Hux. You know the rules." She hummed with triumph, metallic in the air.

"This is a ridiculous game," Hux said peevishly, crawling out from beneath Kylo.

Kylo dropped his ass down to the mat, and his head spun as he brought it back upright. He put his hand out to steady himself, pressed it on the green spot Hux had chosen, felt him like lingering warmth. Hux ached, and he hated it, but brandy and movement and - yes, their closeness, his and Phasma’s, slowly wore it down.

"I don't see what's wrong with dejarik,” Hux was saying. “I like dejarik."

Phasma grinned, leaning on an elbow and holding the bottle out with her other hand. "It's my turn to choose, and I like _this_ game."

Hux snatched the brandy and took a gulp, scowling down at Phasma where she sprawled easily on the floor of his quarters. He was stripped down to regulation black shorts and vest, and flushed pink down to his pale chest. His heart fluttered there, despite his complaints, and Kylo closed his eyes to feel it in the Force, like the wind of beating wings.

“If you like it so much why don’t _you_ play?” Hux pouted. He took another swig before offering the bottle. Kylo took it without opening his eyes, and Hux snorted. “I think he might have had enough.”

“Have not,” Kylo said, put the bottle to his mouth, _chink_ , tried to taste Hux before the sweet, sticky burn of the brandy flooded in. He had not had enough, not of anything.

Phasma’s laugh was throaty and lovely, and when Kylo opened his eyes she was watching, lazy ripple of something like affection rolling over him.

“I think he’s changing the subject,” she stage-whispered to Kylo, “He lost and now he doesn’t want to do it.” Hux snorted again. When they both looked up at him he uncrossed his arms, put his hands on his hips, and he’d had too much to drink to keep the gesture entirely pissy. Hux liked to be looked at, secretly, drank in attention with a kind of defiant greed that dared anyone to find him wanting.

“This is a ridiculous game,” he said, “But rules are rules.” Hux pulled the vest off over his head and Kylo watched his hair halo out, processed it in dreamy slow motion. “Even stupid rules.”

Phasma’s fingers closed over Kylo’s on the neck of the bottle and Kylo let her drag him with it, rolled onto his side and relaxed in her grip like some waiting weapon. For a second he felt the heat of her breath on his fingers, and then she took a slow drink. The glass was smooth and warm and her hands were big and rough and her heart was steady and strong and Hux waited, waited, waited, him and Kylo both, because Phasma liked _this_ game. Her eyes were on Hux, who swallowed when she did, wet his lips with his tongue.

“Hmm,” she said, considering. She still held the bottle, held Kylo stretched out to her. Stretched thin, stretched thin, waiting to snap. Phasma pulled so Kylo had to scramble toward her, and when he was close at her side she took his chin in her free hand, put the bottle to his lips. Kylo drank. Hux’s eyes on his throat were like the scratch of his fingernails, the graze of his teeth, hungry and hot.

Phasma released Kylo, prying the bottle free and setting it down. She rubbed at the corners of his mouth with her thumb. Kylo turned his head at the gentle pressure of her fingers, and Hux took a breath that drew him a little taller, his soft belly a little flatter, trying to be surreptitious about it and failing beautifully. Kylo looked, just like Hux liked him to, trailed a slow gaze all the way down and back up again, ghosting the Force over the damp heat of his skin and feeling him shiver.

“He's got one more round in him,” Phasma said, eyeing Hux’s shorts. “Don't you think?”

Hux wanted … he was thinking about Kylo’s fingers slipping under his waistband, slow drag of the material down his thighs, Kylo’s nails soft-sharp after them, the pressure just right - Phasma made a pleased little hum, tipped her head against Kylo’s, asking to see again.

Kylo let her, and they looked together. Hux narrowed his eyes, but he was shifting on a hip, tipping his head back ever so slightly, his lips parting. Phasma saw it about the same time Kylo did: he wanted to play the ridiculous game. He wanted to be - won? _Earned_ , Kylo realised, in a rush that he felt heat his skin, and he heard Hux’s soft intake of breath, Phasma’s low chuckle. Earned, worth effort.

 _One more round_ , Kylo told them, and he wasn't sure if he did it with his mind or his mouth but they heard him anyway.


End file.
